I hadn’t thought about him in years.
The last time I had seen him, he had been engaged, and had developed a beer gut that shocked me. I guess he wasn’t happy because they ended up not getting married. It wouldn’t be the first time a toxic relationship caused weight gain.
But that wasn’t how I remembered him. His name strikes a particular chord of my past… for when I think of him, I think of the summer before I turned 16, when he came to stay at our country home for the weekend, along with a handful of my brother’s friends. I remember how he looked at me for the first time independent from his relationship with my brother—the instant I went from being my brother’s younger sister to being me. Sitting outside on the balcony, he asked me what I had been up to, and I told him I was learning to play guitar, that I was hoping my parents would buy me an electric one for my autumn birthday.
“I have a guitar.” I’ll never forget being 15, absolutely boy-crazy, ridiculously horny and attracted to my brother’s musician friend. “You can have it if you want.”
“Wait…what?”
“Yeah. I got it for super cheap and I don’t really use it anymore, so if you want an electric guitar, I can give it to you.”
The simple offer was so generous; it made me want him even more! I didn’t even expect him to follow through on it, but sure enough, a few days later, he showed up at our door, guitar in hand. It was a high-end Fender, and someone had filed the serial number off like it had fallen off of the back of a truck. He showed it to me and left, refusing any kind of payment. And then he went back to music school and I was left to my teenage angst and songwriting that didn’t last very long.
So now, almost 8 years later, I receive an email from him saying he could use an assistant and I should stop by for an informal interview and check out the recording studio.
My head started spinning with the possibilities. I knew he had called off his engagement, but did he still have the gut, I wondered… I felt so shallow for thinking about it and then, remembering years of sexual tension all stemming back to that summer night, I felt assured I wouldn’t really care even if he still had it. The thought of seeing him outside of one of my brother’s parties was somewhat unnerving. This was the guy who GAVE ME A GUITAR. Not only had he given me a guitar, he had given me a guitar when I was at the peak of my underdevelopment—he had given me hope that there were men who could find me attractive at a time when I thought it was utterly impossible. The sexual tension between us was almost palpable back then, but he was 20 and I was 15. Now, as I settle into my 20s, knowing I’ve dated men well older than he, I couldn’t help but hope that the chemistry was still there. If he was single, I could have a fun time working for him…
We set up a time. I was more nervous that I had been in years. My stomach kept turning over like it did when I went on dates freshman year of college. His full name repeated itself in my head, my heart drummed with excitement and anxiety. The day before, I lay on my bed thinking of him, wondering if his musician’s hands could make me squirt, my hands shoved down the front of my leggings, edging on the brink of orgasm.. I tap into that summer night, remembering how much I had dreamt he would sneak into my room when everyone else was asleep and profess his love for me before fucking me silly. I envision him in front of me, watching me with lust in his eyes, his cock hard and straining against his pants, He kisses me and I gasp at his scent, breathing in his pheromones, wanting to taste more of him, my pussy throbbing at the very thought—
When I cum, my vision of him grins at me before leaving me alone on my bed.
I could hardly sleep. I woke up early, even though our appointment was in the afternoon—so typical of the universe to prolong my anxiety. I masturbated once more before I left to see him, imagining fantasy scenarios of seduction…. my hard nipples peeking through my shirt, bending over to pick something up…fantasies on the brink of porn-ridiculousness. As I got dressed, I wondered if anyone would be able to smell my wet pussy when I walked down the street. Checking to make sure I had my keys, I pumped up some tunes and headed towards the subway.
As usual, I scanned the subway car for any potential hotties, but alas, found none. With no eye candy to distract me, I could think only of him. I could feel a wet spot form in the crotch of my leggings and i told myself to relax. Life isn’t a movie. I could recall he never had a hard time meeting girlfriends. He was probably taken.
Turning the wrong way out of the subway, I had to double back in order to make it to the studio on time. I stood outside panting for a moment before unraveling my scarf and stepping inside. It was dim inside, with lights highlighting featured artists. A pretty young woman behind a desk smiled at me as I walked towards her. I think she’s prettier than me, but I smiled nonetheless and told her who I was looking for. Before she could say anything, I heard a voice ask if I am who I say I am, before I saw him appear from behind hidden door, grinning casually. He looks good, his jet black hair having grown out on top, the sides shaved–edgier–since I had last seen him, no insane gut visible.
“It’s good to see you,” I said, as he gave me his customary warm embrace hello.
“Yeah!” he exclaimed. “I saw your brother a few weeks ago, and he said you were looking for work—“ He introduced me to the pretty girl and showed me around the studio.
After we circled the space, he said something quietly to the girl as I looked at the musicians on the wall. She laughed and threw a balled up piece of paper at him. He laughed and ducked before catching my eye. “Step into my office,” he said, smiling and gesturing. “Take your coat off, he said, offering a chair to drape it over. I knew from the moment I had seen him the chemistry had not been lost.
We talked shop for a bit and caught up. It was good to see him, and he seemed to be doing well. The job was mine for the taking. I was caught off-guard at the ease in which everything had flowed. When there was a lull, he leaned in closer to me, lowering his voice
“I have to admit something,” he said, smiling, his eyes twinkling at me. I felt 15 again, my heart fluttering.
“What’s that?” I teased.
He exhaled and his delicious masculine scent wafted my way. Then he smiled again. “I’ve kind of always had a thing for you…”
It took a few moments for his words to register before I laughed and kissed him.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/35xx1q/reigniting_the_flame_part_1_mffirst_person_f